Sands of Time
by lady-harker
Summary: Three months since the Smithsonian and not all is well with Jedediah. For the cause and the cure they must return to the place where it all began, which is far easier said than done. But could they have already destroyed the answer to their problems?
1. It Had Happened Before

**Disclaimer:** The concept and characters from the Night at the Museum do not belong to me. Believe me; if they did I wouldn't share them so you wouldn't know them.

**Author's Notes:** Inspired by the momentary pause on Jed after Kahmunrah tells him to save his breath in the second movie. That and numerous visits to the 'You Know You're In Love With Night At The Museum When…' thread on the Crazy Night At The Museum board. This one I've done alone but I hope to get lots of help for the next bit and make it into a collaboration. Anyway; read it, review it, but most of all enjoy it.

**Night at the Museum: Sands of Time**

**Chapter One: It Had Happened Before**

Jedediah stretched his arms behind his back until they cracked. Three months had passed since the Battle of the Smithsonian but he was still waking up stiff after his ordeal with the hourglass.

He shuddered at the memory of being in that small compartment. That hadn't been pleasant. He hadn't talked to anyone about it there was no need; he was fine. It'd turned out to be a wise decision as they were still fussing over him about actually being trapped in there in the first place.

Jed shook his head quickly dismissing the thought. He'd survived and they were all back home at the Museum of Natural History. No one could want for more.

All around him the other miniatures were moving about getting ready for the visitors who came in for the new late hours of the museum. The miniatures were quite popular with the crowd, mainly because they thought they were all clever projections or animatronics or something of that sort. It was better that way; kept the museum director happy.

"Hey Jed." Looking up he saw Larry.

"Evenin' Gigantor." Jed grinned.

"Listen, I was thinking tonight you could do a talk or something down at the information desk. Try something a bit new, you know…since you broke the plane." Jed rolled his eyes, he was wondering when this was gonna come up.

"Now, you know I told you that was a mistake."

"Darn right it was a mistake. A mistake I ever got it for you."

"There weren't no casualties, no fires. No one got hurt."

"I don't care. For the foreseeable future you are grounded."

"Thank God." Jed turned and saw Octavius stood a short way off removing his helmet. "I prefer to keep my feet firmly on the ground."

"Wuss."

"Jed!" he turned to Larry. "We're opening in five minutes. You coming downstairs or not?"

"Sure thing."

Larry held out his hand and Jedediah stepped onto it before he was lifted up. They passed out the hall of miniatures and Jed watched as the entrances to the different exhibits whizzed past. He couldn't see what they were and he didn't know who was in them but he was enjoying the wind rushing through his hair. You didn't get that a lot when you were as small as he and Octavius were. He'd never really appreciated it before but since coming back from Washington he'd learnt to value the times he felt real freedom.

"Jed!" called Larry's son, Nick.

"Well, howdy Nickster." Larry set him down on the desk before rushing off to open the doors. "I didn't know you were coming tonight."

"Mum's got an emergency meeting so she said I could join dad for tonight." Nick flashed the cowboy a big smile before wandering off to play with Rexy. That kid really would use any excuse to come to the museum for the night.

Larry unlocked the revolving doors and the first museum patrons of the night entered; family groups with young, eager-faced children staring in awe at Rexy and teenagers with nothing better to do; couples looking for an evening of interest; groups of young people meeting up for an evening out; worst of all, in the far corner there was a group of little children gathering by the doors…a field trip.

There was nothing wrong with field trips, he was all for education, but there was something about little kids that made them incapable of reading the 'DO NOT TOUCH THE MINIATURES' sign and every time a field trip turned up one of them would try and manhandle him. It was for the best that he was down here tonight.

Jedediah had been convinced tonight would be a good night but the people were flocking in and beginning to interact with the moving exhibits, none of them even noticing him. He sat on a pencil sharpener and watched folks bustle by; even Teddy just trotted past, paying him no attention. It was then that Jed realised that Larry had brought him down here just so he could keep an eye on him. Honestly, you have one little incident with a remote control plane…

Normally Jed would be bothered by this but tonight…tonight was turning into one of those nights. Thinking about it maybe he should have stayed upstairs, entertained people or talked with Octavius, something, anything, to keep his mind occupied and stop his mind from wandering… Yet here he was on the front desk, left to think, although not deliberately. No one had any idea about it; he hadn't told them. Hell, he barely knew what was going on himself. Whatever it was certainly didn't feel right.

Tonight was going to be a good night for the museum by the looks of it; plenty of visitors milling around, oohing and aahing at the different wandering exhibits. Perhaps he ought to try and gain the attention of someone; impart some wisdom on the ways of the Old West. But no one was interested, unable to hear or see the small cowboy from his inconvenient space. Round here everything was at eye level so no one was looking down at the desk.

Plenty were looking over it, intrigued by the ostrich trying to pry an information guide from its rack. Larry soon stopped it by trying to take the guide from its beak and somehow ending up on its back as it charged around the main lobby. After two circuits the bird stopped and Larry was thrown from its back landing on his own five feet away, guide tight in hand. He stood up, carefully, to the roaring applause of the small audience who had gathered to watch.

Jed whooped as Larry replaced the guide in the rack who heard and gave him a two-finger salute before heading off again. Never a dull moment around here. It was as if every night was a party for their victory over Kahmunrah.

Soon though his thoughts settled again and the practically constant feeling of dread that was residing in his chest welled up. He closed his eyes and prayed the feeling would go, as it sometimes did. Unfortunately those times were few and far between and the dread stayed, compressing his chest and making breathing a bit difficult. This was always how it started, and it only ever got worse.

Opening his eyes he saw everyone moving about, laughter and joy, fun and delight and, as his chest compressed more, it seemed to become more distant like he was watching it from a long way away. But it was right there, right in front of him. This part was always difficult; seeing things like this made him feel like he couldn't be a part of it all, like there was a wall keeping him from joining in.

The pressure on his chest increased again, as though something was pressing down on it, and what he saw began to swim before his eyes. Worried, Jed screwed them up. If he couldn't see it then he could convince himself he was just ill, although how a plastic miniature such as himself could get ill was something he didn't know. Shutting his eyes was making him feel a little better now, even though he could feel the nausea setting in. His stomach churned and the weight on his chest grew.

He was vaguely aware of his legs giving way and pain erupting down his left side as he thudded to the desk surface and the words began to float into his head. Cruel, harsh words spoken by a lunatic pharaoh. Words which he should have dismissed immediately…but he hadn't…he'd listened…and for a moment, one tiny inconsequential moment, Jed had believed him.

'_I'd save my breath if I were you,'_ they were as clear as the very first time he'd heard them, _'you don't have many left.'_

And as he began to lose consciousness he had an uneasy feeling that the words were right.

_Next: Just The Start_


	2. Just the Start

**Disclaimer:** The concept and characters from the Night at the Museum do not belong to me. Believe me; if they did I wouldn't share them so you wouldn't know them.

**Author's notes:** Right, some thanks are in order. Thank you to all those who read the first chapter and those who reviewed, favourited and put it on story alert. Also thanks to AngstyAnimeStar, Danforth'sChild and pinkxjellybean for posting on the collaboration thread with ideas/pleas for chapter two; even if they managed to go off on a tangent about popularity ¦). Finally, big shout out to Danforth'sChild for the message you sent! Although I didn't use your suggestion exactly it certainly gave me the idea I needed for this chapter to work. This is one of the fastest chapters I've ever written so I hope it's not too rushed. I was up till 1 last night (GMT) finishing it so some bits that made no sense due to fatigue had to be reviewed. Read, review and enjoy!

**Chapter Two: Just the Start**

Larry brushed himself down as he stood up, museum guide clasped in his hand. He nodded at the small audience who were gathered in a circle round him. It was alright for them but this floor was marble and his back was not responding well to the rough treatment.

As he placed the guide back he heard a whoop come from the desk and saw Jed there cheering. After the plane incident last night it was reassuring to know exactly where Jed was and no doubt Octavius was glad for the break from extreme adventure. Stopping only to give him a two-finger salute similar to the ones the cowboy usually gave, Larry quickly moved on.

The stairs out of the lobby were packed with people, all of them desperate to discover what other wonders the museum had on offer. Getting up them was difficult and he was nearly knocked backwards twice. Of course once he reached the top they almost instantly cleared and were easily passable. Sod's law.

In one corner sat Attila telling another story to a group of children all gathered round his feet while the parents stood a short way away every bit as entranced as their children. Attila sure was good at telling stories considering he didn't speak a word of English.

Squeals of delight erupted from the hall of miniatures as he passed; always a popular stop for those with young children. He stood in the hallway looking in and saw the place packed with visitors, all of them enjoying their visit.

Moving on down the corridor, Larry continued with his round. No problems in invertebrates and all was well with the reptiles. Everyone was doing fine with the new regime and even the most impossible of them was co-operating, grateful not to be in storage.

It was still so weird seeing so many people enjoying the exhibits liveliness. Back when he'd started this job he never thought anyone would ever find out about the whole coming to life at night thing. Technically speaking they didn't know, all of them convinced it was animatronics or well trained actors. It was for the best.

Perhaps the best thing was Dr McPhee had been lost for words at the start, not that he was exactly a wordsmith before, and every night he would leave his office and see all the patrons wandering around in amazement.

"Just when I think I've seen it all I notice something new like the…or the…well…the… Amazing!" he'd said a few nights ago.

Then of course there was the briefest of moments when he'd admitted that as far as night guards go Larry was best. Never again had the director mentioned that and it was probably better. Said more than once, especially by McPhee it would quickly lose its meaning.

Everyone was seeing the Museum anew and Larry couldn't help but smile at that.

It really was great to be back.

* * *

Larry rushed through the corridor, weaving and dodging the people as they went past, trying hard not to drop Jed.

"Wake up Jed!" Larry hissed at the cowboy, nearly hitting an elderly man with his elbow. "Jed! Jedediah!"

Teddy had found him sprawled out on the front desk and was currently trying to forge a clear path through the crowd leading to the hall of miniatures. Neither of them knew what else to do, both hoping that one of the miniatures might be able to shed light on the problem.

"Forgive me, ladies and gentlemen," he bellowed as he entered the room, "but due to unforeseen circumstances I'm afraid we must close the hall of miniatures."

There were groans from the children and muttered complaints from the parents, but they slowly and compliantly left through the exits leaving the way clear for the night guard. Octavius, who had been organising his troop for a demonstration of Roman battle strategies, lowered his sword.

"What's going on?" he asked Teddy but Larry dashed past the Roman exhibit and distracted both their attentions.

"Medic!" he called out. "Doctor!" All the miniatures gathered at the front of the display, curious to find out why they had stopped and from out of the crowd stepped the medic.

"What is it?"

A gasp went through the crowd, followed by worried chatter as Larry carefully laid Jed down onto the rock before them. He was still and silent; not even a slight twitch to indicate he was alive. None of them had seen him like that before; none of them wanted to see it most of them turning away.

The man strode cautiously towards the still form of his leader and knelt down.

"What happened?"

"We were hoping you could tell us."

The medic placed his hand on Jed's chest and left it for a moment before grasping one of his arms and raising it up. Jed's arm hung limp at the elbow and smacked down when he let it go. The resultant thud sent a shudder down his people's backs. The medic did no more.

"Is that it?" Larry asked impatiently. "Aren't you gonna check his pulse?"

"Lawrence," Teddy was looking at the cowboy solemnly, "just as I am made of wax, so is Jedediah made of plastic." He paused momentarily before turning to Larry. "He doesn't have a heartbeat."

"He's not breathing; or responding." Said the medic, shaking his head. "I don't know what's wrong."

'So much for my plan to keep an eye on him.' Thought Larry. 'Why is Jed like this? When will he wake up? _Will _he wake up?'

There were so many questions and not a single one had an answer; all of them were clueless as to what was going on. On top of that there was something that was bothering him. There was a large amount of guilt weighing on his chest as he looked at Jed; it was the same as the time he'd found out everyone was being shipped to the Smithsonian. Deep inside him, Larry felt it was his fault.

* * *

It was dark, as it always was, as the pressure on Jed's chest began to ease. Slowly light was starting to attack his eyelids in an attempt to get him to wake up but his limbs still felt like lead, weighed down by an invisible force that was intent on keeping him in place. He didn't mind. Lying there, he was comfortable; it was the calm after the storm.

His throat was dry, red raw, and as he took in a deep breath through his nose he choked; the coughing and hacking enough to make him sit up. His body ached and groaned as he moved but it told him he was still alive, which was something.

"Jed?" looking up, Larry was stood in front of him looking down. "Jed. You're alright?"

"We-" he coughed and stood up. "Well, why wouldn't I be?"

"You've been out of it for," he looked at his watch, "over six hours."

Jed turned around and saw he was back in his display with his people stood behind him. All of them looked at him with fear in their eyes. This was what he'd been trying to avoid. Breathing deeply, he swallowed.

"Guess I been rumbled." Larry frowned.

"Rumbled? Jed." Jed lowered his head. "Are you saying this has happened before?"

All eyes were on him but he didn't meet any of them; he just kept his head down as he nodded. Fearful murmurs spread through the crowd behind him.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Burning glares were coming at him from his people and Larry, he knew it. But that was a question he couldn't answer. He couldn't say it; he just couldn't. Admitting it would only make it more real and it was bad enough already.

"How often?"

Jed shrugged.

"Jed look at me!" he looked up. "How often?"

Breathing deeply he answered, "Every other night or so, I guess."

"Since when?"

"Six weeks." His voice was so low he was surprised Larry even heard him.

"You've been falling unconscious every other night for six weeks and nobody's noticed?"

Jed heard his people shift uncomfortably behind him. They'd noticed, out of the corners of their eyes. Lately Jed had often gone off on his own for no real reason; disappeared for hours at a time once only just coming back before sunrise. None of them had questioned it at the time; Jed was a busy man; there was lots for him to be getting done.

Suddenly realisation dawned on Larry's face.

"The plane."

Jed nodded, lowering his head again. He'd been flying the plane through the lobby with Octavius in the passenger seat when it just hit him. Octavius had been fine, only a little shaken, but Jed hadn't. In fact, he was surprised they hadn't guessed then but everyone had just assumed he was knocked out in the crash.

Minutes passed by, no one quite sure what to say. Each second of silence made Jed's shame increase. He'd meant to keep it hidden. His people saw him as a strong leader, capable and brave, if a bit stupid at times; he lead them and protected them and the last thing he wanted was for them to think of him as weak; they'd question his ability to lead.

"Jed, you're plastic. Surely you knew there was something wrong with this. Why didn't you tell me?" Larry didn't expect an answer this time; his tone said that. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost sunrise. We'll discuss it later." And with that Larry left.

Jedediah stayed still as he heard his people move behind him. They were muttering about him. He didn't need to hear to know it; he didn't want to.

Tonight had started out as such a good night.

* * *

Larry walked towards the hall of miniatures that night with purpose. He was determined to talk this out with Jed in private. The cowboy was scared; it was obvious even if he wouldn't admit it. And something about this was all wrong. Like Teddy had said; Jed was made of plastic. How could plastic fall unconscious?

As he entered he noticed a lot of commotion in the Old West display. Hopefully Jed hadn't collapsed again; he wasn't ready for the hours of worrying he'd been through the night before. Getting closer, he saw the gaggle of Jed's people gathered in a clump.

"What's happened?" Larry asked. "Did Jed lo-" his sentence was lost as the people parted.

Jed wasn't unconscious. He was stood in the same place as last night…in exactly the same position…right down to his lowered head. Larry would've loved to have believed that Jed was just standing very, very still; but there was an ominous sheen to his clothes and hat that told Larry that he and Jed weren't going to be doing a lot of talking that night.

_**

* * *

**_

6 weeks ago – at the Smithsonian

Brandon (pronounced Brundon) was sorting through the small mess that remained in the hall of the Smithsonian Castle.

The Wright brothers' plane had been the first thing to be removed while the replacement of the stained-glass windows was next. Bit by bit everything had been removed and put in its proper place save for the smaller pieces around. No one had any idea how the mess had been made and so many exhibits moved there from the Federal Archives but most of it had been in this hall and it was Brandon's job to clear up what was left of it overnight.

He'd picked up the various weapons, spears and a scythe, and put them aside all ready to be placed back where they belonged. All that was really left was sweeping up the sand that had escaped from a smashed hourglass. Most of it had stayed around the hourglass but a fair amount had managed to get to either side of the hall. Picking up the broom Brandon sighed. If only he didn't have to do this.

As he began to sweep nothing was unusual but after a while he stopped; the grains of sand were bouncing along the floor on their own. All over the hall, sand bouncing across the floor where it began to enter the hourglass through the smashed bottom bulb and flow into the top. Once all of the sand had re-entered the hourglass, it glowed, throwing out a blinding light which subsided after a few seconds.

Brandon blinked the light out of his eyes and looked at the hourglass. It was fixed; all the shards of glass had somehow melded back with the rest of the bulb and it stood there, perfectly intact; and in working order.

Sand was flowing through now, beginning to fill up the bottom bulb with a slow steady flow. Brandon watched it transfixed, not quite sure if he'd seen what he'd just seen.

Brandon watched it, worried it might do something else. Was this the kind of thing that the guy who couldn't pronounce his name had been talking about? He edged closer, reaching out. When he was close enough, he touched the wood. It was warm; very warm.

Beneath his fingers, the wood got hotter and hotter until he flinched back. The sand was flowing through it faster now, almost too fast; the speed making the sand roar.

It wasn't until almost all the sand had run through that Brandon found the courage to run.

_**At the same time – the Museum of Natural History**_

Jedediah collapsed for the first time.

_Next: Fear_


	3. Fear

**Disclaimer:** The concept and characters from the Night at the Museum do not belong to me. Believe me; if they did I wouldn't share them so you wouldn't know them.

**Author's Notes:** I know that this took longer compared to the other chapters, especially considering the length of the last one, but I started this chapter and then hit a huge metaphorical wall. So I tried to rethink it but I hit the wall again. And the story continued like this until the last day of January when I literally churned everything out in a couple of hours. I had intended this chapter to be longer but it just seemed best to end it there. And luckily the title fit better than with my original idea. So thanks to everyone who's reading, thanks to my reviewers (especially Bookworm Gal, yours was the real ego boost/kick-in-the-butt I needed to finish this) and of course all the members of The Crazy Night At The Museum Forum. So please, read it, review it and, as always, enjoy it!

**Extra A/N:** Just an extra special shout-out to coli narago without whom, this chapter would never have existed. I owe all this to your review! ¦D

**Chapter Three: Fear**

From his position on the seat in the middle of the room, the Roman general could see the Old West display all too clearly. It was deserted; all the inhabitants had moved to one or other of the various other displays, none of them able to handle seeing Jedediah as he was. Octavius didn't want to see it either but knew that unless he saw it for himself he would never believe it.

He'd been there for about three hours now, sat on the very top of the bench, his legs dangling over the edge. He wished he had the guts to get closer but it was difficult enough seeing his friend from this distance. It was just unnatural seeing him that perfectly still even without the gleam of plastic which he couldn't see from where he was.

Earlier Octavius had asked Larry if this was what everyone in the hall of miniatures looked like when they weren't moving during the day. At that moment the night-guard took it upon himself to try and disperse that crowd beginning to gather at the edge of the room where he'd set up some cordons; which, of course, meant yes.

Frantic whispers had spread through the miniatures, instilling fear in all of them. Rumours were rife, each more ridiculous than the one before but none were ruled out by people's panic. Octavius knew that if it was someone other than Jedediah things wouldn't be half so bad, but the absence of his rowdy yelling and reckless adventure hunting was all too obvious. Besides Jedediah wasn't someone who scared easily but it was clear from the stance he was frozen in that whatever was going on here scared him.

All the Western miniatures were asking the same question; why hadn't Jed said anything?

Octavius' mind flashed to a night a couple of weeks ago.

* * *

_They were in Jed's display and the museum had just closed for the night leaving enough hours before dawn for them to do their own thing._

"_You're such a girl sometimes." Jed joked at the Roman general's suggestion of taking it easy for one night making sure he emphasized that it meant no vehicular involvement whatsoever. Surprisingly though, he conceded and the two of them were hanging around towards the back of the display._

_Most of the others from the display were out exploring the museum. One of the advantages of being small was that there were still parts of the huge building that most of them hadn't seen yet. Some were still around but they stuck to the camps at the front of the display meaning the two of them were more or less alone. This was the spot Jedediah had chosen after constantly looking over his shoulder, probably to see how far away the others were._

_Octavius winning the 'argument' was very confusing; Jedediah was and always had been stubborn; that was how all their fights had started before they put aside their differences and became friends; neither of them could give in to the other._

_Since they'd become friends though Jed had always got his way. It was his confidence more than anything else; when the cowboy was sure of something, as he often was, it was almost impossible to convince him otherwise. When someone could be as sure of something as that it was catching._

_The man who was stood in front of Octavius, when he sat on one of the rocks scattered around the display, could not have been more different. It wasn't anything obvious but there was something about the way Jedediah was holding himself; his shoulders were sagging slightly and he was shifting his feet a bit too much._

_Jed was smiling though; his usual broad grin that told the world that he was ready for anything. So Octavius had just shrugged off his suspicions. Stupidly._

"_That sure was a busy night." Jed said, his voice filled with its usual bravado. "Heard you had a bit of a ruckus over in Rome."_

"_Yes." Octavius replied, grimacing at the memory. "A child tried to take part of one of the buildings. But then he dropped it and nearly crushed some of my people."_

"_Kids!" Jed shook his head; it was well known how much Jedediah hated some of the younger visitors messing with the displays. The cowboy reached down and picked up a pebble before turning it over in his hands. "I was thinking of askin Gigantor if we might get a lake or something."_

"_Really?"_

"_Yeah." Jed took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Thought it might be fun. Could do some skimming." He mimicked skimming with the pebble before letting it out fall out of his hands and clatter to the ground. "Probably have it over there." He half-heartedly indicated somewhere over Octavius' shoulder._

_Octavius sighed. "If you want, we could go for a drive in the car." He suggested. Not the plane though because Jed had a habit of doing barrel-rolls about 90% of the time. Jed paused._

"_What happened to taking it easy?"_

"_Well, yeah…" Octavius had to admit it was kind of boring just sitting there. Neither of them had much to say to each other, they were there during most of what was going on in each other's life; they were best friends after all._

"_Na." Jed sat down on a rock nearby. "Not up for an adventure t'night." A pause._

"_Jed?" the cowboy bowed his head. His shoulders were hunched up and his smile had completely gone._

"_What d'you think y'need to be…" Jed stumbled over it, his voice quiet, "…to be a good leader, Octavius?"_

"_Well, I suppose," he'd thrown a sideways glance at his friend as he thought. "A leader needs to be strong; and fearless; and…well…he needs to have his people's interest at heart." Another pause._

"_Am _I_ a good leader?" Jed had said after a while._

"_Of course." The Roman's brow furrowed as he answered without a moment's hesitation. What a stupid question! Why would he ask that? "You're the strongest, bravest person I know and you only ever think of what's best for your people."_

"_I wish I could believe that." When Jedediah looked up at him, Octavius gasped. The cowboy's eyes were shining and filled with something he'd never seen there before; fear. "I really do."_

"_Jed?" he reached out a hand to try and comfort his friend but Jed jerked his arm away and stood up quickly, turning his back to Octavius. "Jed, what's wrong?"_

_There was a long silence, only filled with the odd sniff from Jed's direction. Minutes passed before the cowboy spoke again._

"_I don't know." His voice was shaking which only added to Octavius' worry. The Roman stood up and cautiously reached out, afraid of startling his friend again._

_Jed turned when he felt the hand on his shoulder and Octavius was startled to see he was crying. The cowboy quickly turned away again, wrenching his arm out of the Roman's grasp and using it to wipe his eyes._

"_Jedediah!" Octavius was beginning to get angry. Why wouldn't Jed just come out and say what was troubling him?_

_Jed began to run away from him but hadn't gotten very far before he tripped over, landing face-down in the dust. Rushing over, Octavius wondered why he hadn't tried to get up yet. He turned his friend over to find his eyes were closed._

"_Jed?" he didn't respond. "Jed?"_

_A few minutes passed but the cowboy remained still and silent, despite his best friend's pleas._

"_I'm going to get help."_

_But when Octavius returned Jed had gone._

* * *

That night Jed had only returned to his display just before the sun rose meaning Octavius couldn't ask him what the hell had happened. After that night though, Jed was back to normal; it was as though nothing had even happened. Of course Octavius had still worried over it but he'd thought…he'd hoped…the worst of it was past.

Why hadn't Jedediah told anyone - Jedediah didn't know what was happening to him. He was afraid; whether for his own life or for his people, it was anyone's guess. The one thing Jed was afraid of was showing he was afraid, just like any leader.

It was Jedediah's way of dealing with problems he didn't understand. Rather than admit he had them he would deny their existence in the vain hope that they'd go away.

Larry passed behind Octavius for about the thirtieth time.

Hopefully, Jed would wake up soon. Octavius was planning to sit and wait on the bench until he did.

_Next: Finding the Cause_


	4. Finding the Cause

**Disclaimer:** The concept and characters from the Night at the Museum do not belong to me. Believe me; if they did I wouldn't share them so you wouldn't know them.

**A/N:** I am sooo sorry this is later than I had hoped but the huge metaphorical wall (henceforth to be known as HMW) was working overtime and this is the 12th or 13th draft!!! Also there's the fact that I've had a stressful week filled with train-hopping, university visits and school confrontations so I've had like practically no time to do anything. So, as my personally-inflicted 'punishment', I didn't go out on Saturday as I normally do and spent ALL day working on this. It wasn't a punishment though because I LOVED every minute but, because HMW decided to not take the weekend off either, I've pulled another early morning. Well early for me; nearly half two GMT. But anyway, what with my over-six-hours of train journeys on Wednesday and Thursday I have the next couple of chapters thought out, but they absolutely have to be APAP (As Perfect As Possible) before I will even consider posting it up so consider this a heads up for a bit of a wait for the next chapter. Also, big question without which the story cannot possibly continue; where could the hourglass have come from? I know, I know. Vital piece of information and it's the one thing I'm drawing a major blank on but any and all suggestions are really desperately needed so PM me or post in the Sands of Time Collaboration thread in the Crazy Night at the Museum Forum. So now that my _extremely_ long-winded apology and plea is out of the way time for the thank you's. First there's the obvious of those who read and review and favourite and alert and contribute to this. Really, you all make me feel all special inside and drive me to finish each chapter. Special thanks to Danforth's Child because of your suggestion for Larry and the use of Godspeed (listened to it on a loop while typing); hope I got it right. Also coli narago, when I got your message it made me feel so great and I really appreciated it. When I thought the HMW would win I would use that message to beat it away. And as always those who post on pretty much anything on The Crazy Night at the Museum Forum. Check it out guys, hilarious! Right that's that done, wow long, but here's the chapter, finally. Read it, review it but please please please enjoy it! ¦D

**Chapter Four: Finding the Cause**

Word spread quickly and within ten minutes of the museum closing practically every exhibit was crammed into the two corridors leading into the hall of miniatures, with statues pushing wax models and vice versa in an attempt to see in.

Octavius refused to give up his vigil watching over Jedediah, but in his peripheral vision he could just make out the worry that was etched, almost-permanently, on Larry's face. It wasn't long before Teddy and Ahk entered the room; both of them were walking quickly with a desperate sense of urgency towards the night guard who was stood to the side of the display with his back purposely to it.

It made sense that they would be sent for; after all it was Ahkmunrah's tablet that brought them to life at night and Teddy had been at the museum longer than any other exhibit. If anyone would know what to do it would be these two.

The trio spoke in hushed voices for a while and Octavius saw no reason to try and listen in; they would let him know anything important. After a while though, Larry began to get agitated, emphasising certain words with dramatic gestures. Teddy had to calm him down several times but the anger was all-too-apparent and quickly escalating.

"Lawrence!" Teddy's sharp bark pierced the silence of the room and Octavius' attention immediately snapped to the trio. He'd never known the former president to lose his temper before. Technically, he wasn't losing it now but this was the closest the Roman had ever seen him to it. Whatever it was that had angered Teddy couldn't be good.

"Well what else could it be, Teddy?" He heard Larry hiss. Teddy looked to Ahk as he struggled for an answer. The pharaoh had nothing to say either, looking solemnly down at his hands. "All it's ever done is cause us trouble." None of them noticed Octavius watching them intently or, it seemed, realised he could hear them. "In fact, if you take a moment and look at it the way _I_ am right now, it is the sole reason for all the troubles we've had since I got here."

"Larry," Ahk placed a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him, "I don't-"

"It's nothing but trouble and now it's killed Jed!"

…

Silence; strong and harrowing it descended on everyone as Larry, in his anger, shouted the last part at the top of his voice.

Octavius, along with all the gathered exhibits, looked at him in horror. The look of fear on the night guard's face showed he hadn't meant to say that, but they all knew his fears now. Teddy looked down at the floor and Ahk looked at Teddy as the silence continued.

"I didn't me…" he started but his voice faded. Larry's gaze passed over the exhibits, seeing their worried faces. No one moved or made a sound and Larry's eyes fell to the floor. "I didn't…" he gave up trying to say it and walked calmly and quickly out one of the entrances, the exhibits moving out his way as he passed. Teddy looked after him, shaking his head slightly.

"Do you think we should go after him?" Ahk asked uncertainly.

"He just needs a minute." They stood there in silence along with everyone else. No one was fully of everyone else's presence. Sacagawea and Attila were among the first exhibits to drift off away from the group, lost in their own thoughts. One by one, they all left until there was only Teddy, Ahk, Octavius and Dexter stood there.

Dexter stood in the middle of the entrance through which Larry had left and squeaked insistently. Octavius still hadn't learnt to understand the various noises the capuchin made but Teddy nodded knowingly and when the monkey scampered off, his paws 'click-clacking' on the marble floor, the former president calmly strode out the room. Ahkmunrah glanced at Octavius, unsure whether it was wise to leave him alone.

Octavius barely noticed the pharaoh's look or departure. He was transfixed on the still form of Jed again. The silent, still and lifeless form of Jed.

He hadn't dared to think that Jedediah was dead, had refused to even imagine it, but now Larry had voiced the same concern…

The Roman shook his head in frustration. What was he thinking? Jedediah wasn't dead, of course he wasn't. He was simply…well, he was…Jed was…sleeping? It didn't sound right but he knew his friend wasn't dead; he knew. Soon, any minute now, Jed would start moving and everyone would celebrate and they'd go back to having wild adventures in the car or on the aeroplane or with the parachute that Jed had persuaded the Western ladies to make and Octavius would initially refuse to do it but eventually be persuaded by the cowboy's over-enthusiasm and over-confidence and he'd end up regretting agreeing to it but of course would secretly enjoy every single minute of it.

He sighed. It sounded so appealing. But it wasn't going to happen.

He knew.

Suddenly there was a shout of pain from the display and Jedediah wasn't standing anymore.

* * *

The second hand on the clock ticked, filling the silent room with a soothing beat.

If it was silent in Larry's office, he probably would have broken down. Not into tears, just a basic meltdown; he nearly had.

He was sat on the sofa in his office with his head between his knees and taking deep breaths. He had to be alone; to have time to think without all of them watching him; all of them moving while Jed was so still.

The final moment was running through his head on a loop.

_It's nothing but trouble and now it's killed Jed!_

He didn't honestly think that Jedediah was dead, he really didn't; the words had just slipped out. But seeing him like that, all still and scared, when everyone else was so…lively… It was getting too much, he couldn't handle it; he didn't understand.

It was alright for him, he saw all of them, the miniatures, the wax models, the statues, like that during the day but they all 'woke up' at the same time and had never seen anyone like that before. For them it was the closest they'd ever come to seeing death.

Looking at the small cowboy had been hard enough for all of them but for him to even _suggest _that Jedediah was dead was easily the stupidest thing he had ever done.

If one of the other miniatures or exhibits had been in this position Jed would have led the rest of them through it determined to succeed, to find a cure and set things to right. He wasn't there to lead them though; he was frozen in his frightened stance reminding them that there was something out there that scared him; him, the bravest of them all, always confident, loud and brash and fighting back, defeated by something he couldn't fight.

That was what made it so infuriating; _that _was what made Larry not want to look.

If they knew what it was that was happening to Jed it wouldn't matter. They could do something to stop it; but there was nothing they could do. Unless…

What if he'd realised the night before? What if when he'd retrieved the cowboy from the wreck of the aeroplane he'd realised something wasn't right? What if-?

"Lawrence." He didn't have to look up to know that Teddy would be stood by the door, so he didn't.

He heard the former president move towards him and felt the cushion shift beneath him as he sat beside him.

"Please sit up. I refuse to talk to you when you look like you've been told the aeroplane you're in is crashing."

"Isn't it?" It sure _felt_ like it was crashing.

"Lawrence, please." Teddy's voice was filled with concern but still Larry didn't move. "Get a grip, man. You're acting like a child."

At this Larry lifted his head. He _felt_ like a child; alone, frightened and confused. It wasn't helping.

"Larry." He turned to see Ahk stood by the door. "I understand that you want to find a cause for Jedediah's condition but I assure you, the tablet has nothing to do with it."

He was continuing their previous conversation as though nothing had happened. Larry flashed a quick smile to show his appreciation.

"Then what's happening to him?"

The silence that fell between them said it all; they didn't know.

"Why are you so sure that it's the tablet?"

"Because it's never caused anything but trouble." It had given the old night guards 'new life', working wonderfully to _their_ advantage but it had never worked when _he'd_ wanted it to; not when he'd wanted to show Nicky how great his job as a night guard was and not when he was trying to save his friends in Washington.

He froze.

"That doesn't mean that it's the source of this problem." Teddy continued, taking Larry's silence to mean he was finished.

"Of course!" Larry stood up suddenly, taking the other two by surprise. "I can't believe I forgot." Teddy stood up sharing a quizzical glance with Ahk.

"Forgot what?"

"The hourglass." It was so obvious and had been staring him right in the face but he'd looked right past it, too frustrated and worried to see what was directly under his nose.

"What?" Ahk and Teddy shared another confused look.

Larry's hand slowly rose to his mouth. Teddy and Ahk hadn't been in Washington; of course they wouldn't know.

"At the Smithsonian, Kahmunrah trapped Jed in an hourglass to get me to find the combination for the tablet. Maybe what's happening _now_ is what would have happened if we hadn't gotten him out before the sand buried him alive."

Ahk stiffened at the mention of his brother's name.

"Kahmunrah." He said quietly.

"But Lawrence, if I remember rightly you threw Kahmunrah through his gate to the underworld. How could he be behind what's going on now?"

Larry shrugged. "I don't know." He stared into space for a moment. "But the hourglass might hold some answers."

A glimmer of hope had sparked in the night guard. The gibbering wreck he'd been barely ten minutes ago was a distant memory as the promise of being able to _do _something to sort out this mess fuelled his confidence.

"I'll go to Washington tomorrow. You can manage one night without me." A smile began to grow on his face. "I have a…friend of sorts on the night guard staff. He can-" Dexter raced into the office before Larry could continue.

The capuchin jumped and squeaked excitedly when he reached the middle. Teddy looked from the monkey to Larry.

"Jedediah's awake."

_Next: Back to the Beginning_


	5. Back to the Beginning

**Disclaimer:** The concept and characters from the Night at the Museum do not belong to me. Believe me; if they did I wouldn't share them so you wouldn't know them.

**Author's Notes:** Okay so great response for last chapter. Lot of outcry for Jed so I thought I'd do us a little catch-up with him and a bit more Jed/Octavius friendship stuff but he's awake. Hurrah! Well sort of. When you read it you'll know what I mean. Anyway, sorry this is moving in a very non-actiony kinda way but hopefully this is a kind of NatM-type-comedy chapter, let me know your thoughts on that, and things are really starting to move and some blanks are starting to get filled in. No idea how many other chapters I can squeeze out of this fic but I certainly think I'll be hitting double figures before it's over, but don't hold me to that. I hit another late night with this one (silly Buffy the Vampire Slayer and it's distracting ways) which led to the writing of a lot of nonsensical prose and dialogue which had to be brushed off in the hour or two leading up to this being posted. But the good news is no sign of the HMW at all!! Hurrah! (Hurrah is kinda my word of the week) Anyway, I know a few of the comments I'm likely to get about this chapter and have answers pre-prepared but feel free to try and catch me out if you so wish. You know how this works by now; thank you time. The normals of course, to begin. If you read this story, if you review or favourite or put it on alert then thank you. If you enjoy it as well, all the better. I'm having the best time writing it and it makes me feel amazing knowing that I'm doing things to other people's satisfaction as well as my own. And also posters to the Crazy Night At The Museum Forum, good place for inspiration or even a cool-off between writing. DC I gotta say THANK YOU for your original and funny reviews; they make my friends fall about laughing in a way that makes them want to read my fic and inspires them to write their own (albeit for other fandoms). So, um, I think that's it. Is it me or are these getting longer? Just checked and it is me, the last one was way longer than this. So here it is. Please read, please review, but above all, you enjoy it. ¦D

**Chapter Five: Back to the Beginning**

Jedediah cried out as he fell forward.

He wasn't sure what had happened but he knew it wasn't right. Normally 'waking up' wasn't painful. Well, at least not this painful.

It hadn't used to hurt, simple as taking a step forward or breathing, but all the feeling had gone from both his legs and every time he breathed in his lungs stopped short of what felt like a proper breath and snapped back as pain seared through his chest. Any thought of movement only made his chest feel tighter so he just lay there with his eyes closed.

Lying on the ground was pitiful. He should stand up. He should show everyone that he was fine even though he felt anything but. He should grow a backbone and suck it up. But lying there and doing nothing felt infinitely better than the prospect of having to move did. Instead he listened to his surroundings.

Silent.

Was he alone? Where were the others? Something was definitely wrong here but he didn't have the strength to move and investigate.

There was a scuffling somewhere in front of him and a flurry of footsteps.

"Jedediah!" the voice was close and very familiar. Jed smiled. Octavius. Of course the Roman would be nearby.

Carefully he moved his arms, both heavy as dumbbells, and positioned them so he could attempt to push himself up off the ground; he didn't want his friend to see him as he was. A hand on his back gently pushed him back down.

"I think it best if you try not to move just yet." Jed forced a laugh, although grateful for the excuse to stay still.

"Why? Worried I might hurt maself?"

"Yes, actually." Octavius' voice was solemn and Jed realised he'd missed something. Slowly, he used his arms to turn himself over and the worry he saw in the Roman's face took away the small reserve of bravado he had left. When Jed spoke he was surprised how small and cracked his voice sounded.

"Well that ain't good."

* * *

Not a cloud in the sky and the sun shone, throwing its warming beams of light over the people scattered across the commons between the different parts of the Smithsonian. Some of them were walking idly, not a care in the world really; others, parents with children, were sat enjoying lovely picnics or just an afternoon together. Damien watched them with jealous eyes from the doorway of the Smithsonian Castle. It wasn't fair.

A few months ago Saturday meant staying in bed until three in the afternoon followed by meeting up with his then-girlfriend Denise downtown for a "romantic" meal and clubbing with Gaz and that until the small hours of Sunday morning.

He shifted his stance as Everyday I Love You Less And Less by the Kaiser Chiefs started to play on his iPod. How ironic.

Denise had turned round two months ago and confessed she was cheating on him with Gaz. They split up; the betrayal burned even now but it wasn't exactly the end of the world; he hadn't felt she was right for him either but it had only been the first thing to go wrong that week. A couple of days later he'd had a huge argument with his parents about responsibility and how he was doing nothing with his 'amazing potential'.

He snorted at the memory. That hadn't been what dad had said when he was in high school. Derisive comments about how he couldn't do anything right and was a useless waste of space had given birth to his lack of confidence in everything he ever did.

Take Me Away by Plain White T's started and Damien suspected his iPod was somehow bugged to make him feel worse.

His parents used to give him some money to help him out after he'd lost his part-time job but now he had nothing; he'd been cut off. Anyway, long story short, Saturdays now meant spending up to 12 hours making sure museum visitors didn't touch and/or damage any of the exhibits on display in order to make enough money to pay bills and for food so he could survive to next week.

A few songs went by without him really noticing; they were just to keep his mind occupied really.

Today was a little different from a normal Saturday though. No one was interested in coming in today, scared away by the recent headlines. So here he was stood at the door, watching the world enjoying their Saturday and wishing that he was anywhere but where he was. Still, he was getting paid to just stand around at the moment so no _real _problems.

"Excuse me."

Quickly stuffing his earphones in his pocket, he turned to see a man stood a short way away. The guy wasn't dressed any differently to your average American but there was something about his short black hair and slight face that was real familiar.

"Is it open?" he pointed at the door.

"Oh. Well, sure." Damien turned and stepped backwards through the door, holding it open for the man to enter. The man smiled and nodded his thanks before walking off down the corridor.

Damien waited until he was sure the guy couldn't see him anymore before he head-butted the wall. So much for an easy shift.

Why did this guy have to want to take a look in the museum? Why? It was a wonderful day outside, warm and filled with sunshine and laughter. There's always one who has to go against the grain and ruin his day.

It was stiflingly hot inside the castle. Practically none of the windows could open and the ones that could were either painted shut or had those safe-guard child locks that you screw over the handles. The only way to get the temperature down was to open all the doors to the castle but they weren't allowed to do that because it left the place vulnerable to thieves. That's why the only way to really keep cool without causing the people in charge to go out their heads with worry was to stand in the main doorway into the castle so you can keep an eye on those who come and go. But if there were people inside the walls you had to keep an eye on them.

'My kingdom for proper air conditioning!'

Reluctantly, he walked off after the guy. Stupid rules and regulations.

'Hell if I'm following him everywhere.'

Damien stopped trailing him quite quickly, heading straight towards the seat set up that faced towards the main hall. It wasn't supposed to be there but he always put one there for use by elderly visitors as they travelled round or himself when his feet were aching beyond recognition after long hours stood up on his rounds. Sometimes it would also be useful to plonk a kid on to try and calm them down when they fell over on the cobbled floor. Believe me, that happened a lot, especially when he worked a six day week with four of those days hosting several field trips. The key to keeping the idea successful was to remove it when his shift ended. If it was found there'd be trouble; you weren't supposed to mess with the museum layout.

He closed his eyes, leaned back and listened to the sound of the guy's feet as he moved around. The stranger didn't meander aimlessly like most visitors. He walked fast and with great purpose, easily navigating the corridors and barely hesitating. He knew where he was going, knew what it was he was looking for; but also he didn't. It grabbed Damien's curiosity as the footsteps passed in front of him a few times. Sure the guy walked with purpose, like I said, but it was almost like he knew what he was looking for but didn't know where to find it.

A smirk played across Damien's lips. What was going through this guy's mind?

"Excuse me?" the smirk disappeared.

Sitting up, he opened his eyes and saw the guy stood half way down the corridor in front of him. He let out a big sigh as he sat forward in the chair.

"Yeah?"

"Is the hall closed?" he jerked a thumb at the big hall behind him.

"What gave it away?" faux-velvet ropes were clipped across the hallway entrance. Damien didn't like them; they gave the unconvincing impression of important work going on. No work was going on and he believed there was no point trying to cover-up the facts everyone knew.

The guy glanced at the entrance and turned back with a frown.

"Why…why's it closed?"

"You don't read the news a lot, do you?"

"Huh?"

Damien sighed again before standing up and walking over; he then placed a hand on his shoulder and looked directly into his eyes.

"Do you believe in ghost stories…?" he trailed off. He hadn't caught the guy's name, although knowing himself the guy probably hadn't mentioned.

"I'm Larry." He held out his hand. "Daley."

"Daley." Damien nodded in acknowledgement as he took Larry's hand. "I'm Damien." An eye for an eye, a name for a name or whatever. He paused. "_Larry_ Daley?" the guy's name, the guy's face; both were fairly familiar on their own but together they stirred a memory from a while before his job at the museum. "_You're _Larry Daley?" Damien smiled, genuinely for once. "_The _Larry Daley? Of Daley Devices?"

Larry smiled back; it was kinda shy; sorta modest. "Yeah."

"Dude. Your unlosable keyring; life saver."

"Oh!" he saw Larry's eyes flick to his belt. "You…er…you have that?"

"No." his hand flicked to his keys. "Well, yeah. But not here." He pointed over his shoulder. "Locker room."

The guy seemed genuinely pleased to be recognised but the look was fleeting, disappearing as he continued to speak.

"So, er…why's the hall closed?"

"You _really _don't know?" Damien's demeanour softened somewhat. Larry didn't seem too bad; bit jittery but on the whole he seemed a pretty okay guy; even if he was rather ignorant.

When Larry shook his head, Damien nearly choked on the shock. Everyone knew about the headlines…didn't they?

"Few months back, before I even got here, something happened. I dunno what." He added when the guy opened his mouth to say something. "All I know is everyone arrived in the morning and things had moved."

"Moved?"

"Statues, figures, exhibits and stuff were placed in all sorts of weird places. You heard of the Federal Archives, right? It runs underneath all the buildings that make up the Smithsonian; top security. All sorts of documents and that are kept down there but loads of them were found in that room." He pointed behind Larry. "There was no explanation just a big clean up still going when I turned up."

"So what happened?"

"That's just it. No one knows."

"Where'd it all go?"

Damien shrugged. "I dunno. Like I said, before my time. But I guess it was put back where it came from." His eyes wandered to the empty hall.

He hadn't seen any of the 'carnage' but he'd heard plenty enough from the other guards and the papers. Try as it might, the Smithsonian Museum had failed to keep the affair out of the public eye.

"People started jumping to supernatural conclusions about the whole thing. And of course, _some _people took things to far." Larry looked at him with utter confusion. "There's this other guard, Brandon. He got fired about week after I started."

"Wait, what?" something flashed across Larry's face but it was gone before Damien could identify it.

"I dunno. Me and Brandon never really…well…" he trailed off when he saw Larry was distracted. "He was…a…dork. Are you okay?"

There was a pause. "What happened to-? Why was he fired?"

"Can't be concrete on the details really. Like I said, he was a dork; Always joking about, but when he started to make stupid claims about a possessed exhibit, he just had to go." The visitor swallowed and looked between the hall and Damien several times before it really began to unsettle the guard. "Look, great as it is to meet you, and it is great by the way, but…are you here for some reason in particular?"

"What exhibit?" He was forceful and Larry didn't seem like the happy-go-lucky guy he had a few moments ago.

"Is this why you're here?"

Another silence fell between them as Larry seemed conflicted over something. Damien furrowed his brow; he'd never really understood people; couldn't get a fix on their weird ways but this guy was something else.

"You know I gotta tell you I really don't feel comfortable with uncomfortable silences."

Larry swallowed. "I'm gonna tell you something. And you're probably gonna think I'm crazy." He paused and looked Damien up and down. "Actually I doubt there's any 'probably' about it. But I kinda need you to help me out."

_Next: The Hourglass_


	6. The Hourglass

**Disclaimer:** The concept and characters from the Night at the Museum do not belong to me. Believe me; if they did I wouldn't share them so you wouldn't know them.

**Author's notes:** One week; one whole week. That's how long since I last updated. I did warn a few chapters ago about these important chapters taking longer and trust me, there has only been one day when I haven't worked on this chapter (orders to tidy my room do not come often but when they do, ignoring them is **not** an option; and I'm talking proper cleaning not reshuffling things so it looks like I've done something. I threw out two bins worth of rubbish/recycling!) But it's done; finished; and no thanks to certain elements. Some of you know of my recent discovery of National Treasure (if you didn't, you do now) and an unbelievably annoying plot bunny set up camp and refused to leave until I'd written something down so I lost a couple of hours there. I actually finished this chapter and thought 'Yay! Tuesday update!' but proof-reading it I found I'd completely put the last bit with Larry acting how I would expect Damien to and vice versa which resulted in much cursing and another three hours of re-writing and correction. Thankfully though I managed to finish this before midnight passed, for once, but something tells me it won't be happening again any time soon. It has pained me to make this my slowest update and there were a few emotional breakdowns in the process. But here it is and I gotta say, the struggle and the trouble and the grumbling and the re-writing was sooooooo worth it. I don't mind if other people don't like it, I've literally never been more proud of something I've done, ever! So "award acceptance speech" time. I would love to thank all the regular readers as well as the peeps who've faved and alerted and reviewed. I'm glad you have the heart to take the time out of your day to let me know what you think (or to make me think you're a mind reader *cough*Bookworm Gal*cough*). Also, thought you might like to know, this story has had more reviews than ANY of my other stories and like, thanks for that! Anything else? Probably. Imagination, I have, memory, not so much. So yeah that's it for now. If you're still with me at this point (and not fallen asleep or deterred by my inane rambling) please read it, please review it but I really hope you enjoy it. ¦D

**Chapter Six: The Hourglass**

"Why do I have the feeling you're gonna get me fired?"

That's all Damien had said before he'd disappeared into the secure access door Larry had gone through on his last visit. It was his only response to the explanation Larry had given. Well that and the 'I don't believe you' look that burned ferociously in the boy's eyes.

He knew Damien wasn't a boy but he was young, probably twenty twenty-one, far too young to be as cynical as he came across. Creepy and cliché as it may sound, he saw a bit of himself in his attitude; well, himself before he'd become a night guard. The message shone out as clear as day; Damien didn't want to be there; it wasn't a job he'd chosen or that he enjoyed; he was just here to get money; when he had enough he'd most likely be out of there quicker than you could say 'banana split'.

Larry sighed. He felt kind of guilty.

He hadn't told the kid the whole truth, paraphrasing the whole thing and pretty much skipping over the whole 'museums coming to life and evil pharaoh coming back from the dead to take over the world using the gate to hell in the main hall' part of the story. Okay so it was a big bit that he'd cut out but Damien thought him crazy enough for thinking that an exhibit was responsible for his friend's illness. If he'd explained what was _really _going on, Larry would have been on his way to the local loony bin in less than ten minutes. As it was, Damien was 'backstage' retrieving the hourglass which, Larry assumed, was somewhere back there being repaired.

Twelve minutes passed before the door opened again and Damien came out. Confusion was on his face and his right arm was curled against his torso. It looked awkward and as he stepped forward a grimace flashed across his face.

"You okay?" It was gone as quick as it had arrived and their eyes met.

"You better come see this." The guard grabbed his shirt and pulled him through the door. The speed at which he was rushed through the corridors was fast, very fast, although that could be down to the boy's absurdly long legs which made him about a head taller than Larry, and as he moved he continued to cradle his right hand against his chest and wince if any of his movements disturbed it.

"You alright?" Damien ignored him, continuing with purpose and an uneasy silence until they entered a small room, about six by eight with a few tables and various bits and pieces scattered about.

"Please tell me you see what I see?" Damien's face had changed from the confusion before; it was now filled with fear.

Following his gaze, Larry's eyes came to rest on the hourglass, stood on the furthest table amid some messy papers. Seeing it caused an anger to rise in Larry; it brought back memories that burned within him and fuelled his hatred for the pharaoh who had trapped his friend inside it.

"That's it." It was barely a murmur, mumbled through his gritted teeth.

"But do you see it?"

Larry's brow furrowed. Of course he saw it; it was stood there with the sand running thro- he stopped.

"You see it don't you?" Damien was becoming frantic as he saw Larry pause. "It's not just me, is it? I'm _not_ going crazy."

He could see it; he hadn't been looking at it properly before. It was impossible yet there it was, clear as day, hiding in plain sight.

The sand in the glass was running backwards; it was running from the bottom bulb into the top; it was defying gravity.

Larry walked over to it, dumbfounded. How was it possible? It wasn't. Could this unusual behaviour be behind Jed's strange black-outs and freezings? He shook his head. It couldn't be; it didn't make sense. And yet...

He reached out a hand to examine it closer but jumped when Damien suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"Believe me. You do _not_ want to do that?" he pulled Larry back and slowly moved his right hand away from chest to show him. "I already tried and this happened." The gasp escaped Larry before he could stop it. A large red welt covered the skin of his palm between his thumb and fingers. It was cracked and sore and looked very painful; at least now he knew why the guard had been cradling his wrist; any movement obviously caused big pain.

"The hourglass did _this_?"

"And how!"

"It looks like it's burnt." The red skin was already cracking in some places where the skin had cooled down and Damien had flexed his hand once or twice. "It hurt?"

"Enough to convince me that it could have hurt your friend." His eyes flicked fearfully to the hourglass. "What the hell _is_ that?"

"That's why I'm here."

* * *

They'd left the room with hourglass in, both of them freaked out by the unnatural movement of the sand. The guard had led Mr. Daley to the locker room where the visitor had practically collapsed back on to the sofa. Sitting there he seemed to zone out quite quickly as Damien rushed to the small basin opposite the row of lockers and began to run his hand beneath the tap.

Pain flared up, piercing and sharp, as a fair few layers of skin were washed away revealing the semi-blistered and cracked skin beneath. He bit his tongue, a bit too hard, to stop himself from crying out.

The pain wasn't good. It was bad; very bad. He could barely think through the pain and basic functions like walking and breathing were beginning to falter. Before, when he'd gone to get Mr. Daley, it had been fought back by the adrenaline that had entered his system after seeing the hourglass. Now that what he'd seen had been confirmed and he wasn't looking at the hourglass anymore the hormone was gone and the pain was bashing its way through with a vengeance.

The water ran ice cold as the boiler that linked to the tap stuttered and stopped momentarily. He stopped biting his tongue immediately, afraid he would start tasting blood, and hissed and swore through his teeth instead as he flinched back and stumbled across the room towards his locker. Ripping it open, he tore out the small hand towel he kept in there and wrapped it around his hand. Applying pressure hurt but soothed the pain more than leaving it against the air.

He should have been in the castle keeping an eye on the exhibits and people, or lack thereof, and if he didn't go out there soon he really _would_ be fired. His hand throbbed; to hell with it! If they didn't want him then there was no way he was gonna stay in this piss-ass position. Grabby, impatient, screaming, screeching, horrifying children and their pushy parents he was able and, almost, willing to deal with but at no point had he been told he'd be dealing with demonic, spooky, backward-running, logic-defying artefacts that could very well be more-than-hazardous for his health. For all he cared, they could take their job and shove it. He probably would have left of his own accord but he _really_ needed the cash.

"Mr. Daley." Damien turned and saw he was still sat on the sofa staring into space. "Mr. Daley?" He waved his good hand in front of the guy's blank face. "Come in Mr. Daley." No response. "Can you at least blink or give me _some_ sign of life or something?" Damien sighed. "Now this just ain't fair. If anyone's gonna have a mental breakdown it's gonna be the guy who nearly had his hand burnt off by the-Ah!"

Something told him that catching his hand in the folds of the towel was going to be a common and painful occurrence for a while.

"Damien?" Mr. Daley was looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"Finally!" Damien cradled his hand against his chest again; it seemed that was the easiest and least painful place to keep it. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"What?"

"You don't remember?" Mr. Daley shook his head. "You zoned out. I thought maybe you were having a shutdown or something."

"I was just thinking."

"Deep thinking by the looks of it." He walked over to his locker and shut the door. He trusted Mr. Daley but if any of the other guards came in there was no knowing what they might go looking for. "What were you thinking about?"

"My friend." Damien watched as his eyes glazed over again.

"Oh."

Awkwardness occupied the silence between them and Damien wished there was something more he could do about his hand so there was something to keep his mind distracted; it had been somewhat of an understatement when he'd said he didn't like uncomfortable silences. Such silences prompted unwanted thoughts and/or assumptions about the current situation which led into bouts of depression and random blurtings out of unwelcome comments like 'You mean _nothing_ to me.' or 'Maybe it'd better if you left.' or, his _personal_ favourite, 'Truth be told, we're _ashamed_ to call you our son.'

Uncomfortable silence only ever heralded badness; big bulking batches of badness accompanied with desperately meaningless depression.

He took a deep breath.

He had issues. Big ones; but now was so not the time to be bringing up his whole last three month hell. If there was ever a specific time to not do that, it was now. He needed to focus to try and figure out…well whatever the hell needed to be figured out right now. Thinking about it he really was in the dark about the purpose of Mr. Daley's venture here. I mean, you don't just travel…however many miles there were between New York and DC (if only he'd paid attention in Geography once in a while) just to see an hourglass because your friend is ill without having some sort of a plan.

Right?

Larry Daley of Daley's Devices was probably fifteen years Damien's senior and had been the CEO of the most promising business company in the last twenty years (at least that's what most of the papers had said). So why was it he was sat there with apparently no plan and looking more or less ready to top himself?

"What happened?"

"What?"

"I got questions and I want answers." Damien reached for one of the metal dining chairs that Brandon had swiped from a local café to use for eating in the locker room. Eating on a sofa was cool but after two weeks you long for a table and chair. He swung it round and sat on it backwards, carefully resting his hand against the back. The towel wasn't very thick and the feel of cold metal through it was kinda soothing on his hand. "You had everything going for you. Money, power, fame; but you sold your company and disappeared off the nation's radar. What happened?"

Mr. Daley's depressed expression was slowly replaced with a quiet smile.

"It wasn't for me." He laughed weakly. "It was my friend Jedediah, the one who's ill, who made me realise."

"Cool name."

"I was famous, known throughout most of America. I came up with ideas and had a chauffeur and board meetings and Walmart pitches. It was great. I was successful and dressed accordingly" he paused. "Jed said I was wearing a 'hanging suit'."

Damien didn't say anything; watching every facial movement carefully. Talking about his friend was obviously something he was finding difficult, after all he'd zoned out just thinking about the guy and a small smile was still trying to force its way onto his lips. Obviously a good friend.

"'All gussied up and dead inside'." Damien raised an eyebrow in question; who talked like _that_ these days? Mr. Daley ignored his reaction though. "I wasn't enjoying it. Sure I was successful but I missed my old life, my old friends."

"So you sold your company?"

He nodded. "Went back to my position as a night guard."

"You're a guard?" Mr. Daley nodded. "A _museum_ guard?" he nodded again.

Damien leant forward and struggled with what to say next.

"So you gave up the fame and the money and the power and the…the…the money and…the fame to work in a museum?" It just didn't make sense; museums were boring and old and filled with dead things and history and was the place that most families went to have pointless family-bonding experiences that most likely ended up scarring the children or turning them against their parents as they got older. Or it was where the elderly came to get all nostalgic and lecture him while he was on duty about how things aren't like they used to be, or ought to be. "Why?"

"It's a pretty special museum."

"It'd have to be." Damien laughed. He just couldn't imagine it; bye bye fame fortune and all you could ever want and hello dusty old dead things.

"Anything else?"

He waved away the question. "I'll get my chance. How about we do something a bit more productive?"

* * *

Larry watched as the loading screen appeared. A wire trailed from the back which joined to the wall behind them and connected them to the internet.

The laptop had been taken out of a locker that he knew didn't belong to Damien but the guard had said that as long as it went back where it came from by Tuesday the true owner would be none the wiser and the both of them would remain alive with all their limbs still attached.

"You don't get on well with the other guards do you?" he looked up to Damien who was looking over his shoulder.

"Guards, children, people in general…" Damien shrugged.

When the machine was loaded, Larry brought up Google. When the search showed the first page of presumably hundreds of thousands of results he clicked on the first one. There'd be time to look at the others at some other time. Ignoring the introduction and contents section he scrolled down to the information he actually wanted.

"Originally called a sandglass, blah blah blah, device for measuring time. Two glass bulbs, yadda yadda yadda. Named for the most frequently used sandglass, so on and so forth."

"Says here that people collect hourglasses. Who'd want to do that?" Damien indicated the line he'd read.

"Damien?"

"Sorry."

He read on. "Mainly used on ships in the 17th century for use in timing the captain's log. Still used_ today_ for certain processes in Australian parliament." None of this was useful. Strange how you can never find what you want when you're looking for it.

"What else is there?"

"Uh, symbolic use. 'the hourglass concretely represents the present as being between the past and the future, and this has made it an enduring symbol of time itself'." His finger traced the line as he read. "It also says hourglasses were sometimes put on pirates' flags."

"And that's useful because…?"

"No look." He tapped the screen. "They added metaphorical wings to show human existence is fleeting and that the "sands of time" will run out for everyone…and in England they used to bury people with hourglasses or placed them by gravestones."

"Geez. Morbid much?" Larry scoured through what he'd already read.

"There's no mention as to why it might be running backwards." He felt Damien's hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Daley,"

"Larry." No one above the age of eight called him Mr. Daley; even then it made him feel old. Damien paused before he nodded.

"Larry. This is wikipedia, not the fountain of knowledge."

Larry nodded. Obviously it wouldn't have information about the unusual activity of hourglasses. This was its origin and what it was. He continued to scroll down passing by the parts about the largest and smallest hourglasses. There was no way he was going to read every line. He didn't have time… Well, it felt like he didn't have time, he just wanted it over.

"'Hourglass motif'." He read it absent-mindedly. It could be useful.

"What's that?"

"'Although it's not thought to have come about until the third century the hourglass image appeared throughout history. Two triangles joined at the point were found a lot in, among other things, Native American art in North and South America while in Zulu textiles it represented a married man.' There's even been examples found in Spanish cave paintings."

"So it's old. Anything else?" Damien didn't sound overly enthused about what they were finding. Larry shared this sentiment as he read the last few lines.

"Not really. Only thing left is about the Microsoft hourglass."

"And that'll be really useful."

"Wait." Skim-reading the last section something clicked; the logic of the idea was shaky but then so was the logic of a lot things he came across.

"Just leave it." Damien reached forward to shut the laptop but Larry gently batted him away.

"I'm serious. There might actually be something in this. 'The cursor becomes an hourglass when a program is in the middle of a task and may not accept user input.'"

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

"'When the hourglass does not disappear', as in keeps turning over and starting the "sand" again, 'it suggests that the program is in an infinite loop and needs to be terminated. Alternatively it might be waiting for an external event.'"

Damien leant forward and read through the same section over Larry's shoulder. When he was finished he nodded but quickly shook his head.

"But that's for a _computer_."

"Alright, I know it's shaky," Damien scoffed, "but every idea is based on something." He sat back and a small smile crept across his face. "I think we may have found something."

They _had_ found something; a small something, almost microscopic and it could just be a something that turned out to be a useless, pointless something but it was something and something was better than nothing. Now they just had to figure out what the something was and what it meant.

Damien groaned.

"I am _so_ gonna get fired for this."

_Next: Learn Your History_


	7. Learn Your History

**Disclaimer: **The concept and characters from the Night at the Museum do not belong to me. Believe me; if they did I wouldn't share them so you wouldn't know them.

**Author's Notes: **sorry this has taken a while (and that it's pretty short) but I've had major mind blockage and school work has stepped up a gear so I've had very little time to work on this. Also figuring out the start of this was a right b****. I would've waited until there was more but it seemed the right point to stop at. Hopefully it's enough for now and sorry again. Thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, favourited and alerted this. Really encouraging. Anyway, I've got to go or you won't see this for a few more days.

**Chapter Seven: Learn Your History**

As is often found in fairy tales, truth and light are found in the minds of those who are heralded by their people as the bright and the clever. Never is revelation sought in those who fend for themselves.

A long forgotten battle of Ancient Alexandria finished in the siege of the city by an unforgiving tyrannical force ruled by a cruel leader who believed all but himself to be fools and worthy of torture.

'Spare us!' cried the people of the city. 'Or we shall surely die!'

The wise leaders of the city called for a counsel with the tyrant, hoping to negotiate with him over their fate. He accepted and heard their pleas for their civilisation.

'I have heard your words.' He told unto them once they were finished. 'I am not without heart.'

He ordered his men to find the poorest young man in the city and bring him before the counsel.

The boy they found was barely of age and trembled before the court.

'Where do you live?' asked the tyrant.

'My bed is the street; the markets, my kitchen; the whole city is my playground.' His voice was resolute.

'Have you any family?'

'No, sir. I have naught to my name but the shirt upon my back.'

'Do you fear Death?'

'I fear him, as do we all.'

The tyrant turned to the counsel. 'I leave your fate in the hands of this boy. It is his decision that shall be your salvation or your damnation.'

At that moment one of his men entered the chamber and placed two items upon the desk, one was an aged Gold key and the other an ornate sandglass.

'Here is your decision.'

He indicated the key. 'You will become my guest and be given all that you could ever want for in my palaces. Never shall you go hungry, never shall you be harmed. You will become as a son to me. But this city will surrender to my army and every man, woman and child shall be sold into slavery where they will endure horrors they could never have imagined.'

He indicated the sandglass. "The city will stand, its people be saved. My army will leave never to return but you shall live only until the final grain of sand passes through this glass.'

The boy looked between the key and the glass for barely two minutes before he spoke

'I have seen Death every day that I have lived. Within these walls before your arrival it was slow and those who left had a chance to say goodbye. You have increased Death's work with instant suffering and loss.'

The boy's hand reached out and grasped at the sandglass, turning it over. Drawing it into his chest he told to the tyrant, 'I have made my decision, now begone from the city.'

Alexandria survived as the tyrannical power retreated from their borders and the boy returned to the streets with naught but his shirt and the sandglass to his name.

He was found several years later by a member of the counsel.

'How is it you still live these years later after the sandglass should have run out?' they asked him.

'When the sand is all but run out I turn it over. I control the passing of the last grain.'

So it was, that over the twenty years after the sandglass first started, the boy became a man, the man became a husband, the husband became a father; until the day came when he decided he had lived long enough and he refused to turn the glass.

His wife and children begged him to stay as they saw him start to wither. He merely smiled and wished them all good health and goodbye. His wife tried to turn the glass herself in order to save her husband but as her hand made contact with its wooden stand it left a burn upon her palm.

As the last grain fell, the father drew his last breath.

* * *

Damien flipped to look at the next page. "That's it."

"That's it?"

"Yep. The other pages are just about the construction." He held the papers out for Larry to look at.

Sure enough it had Polaroid photographs stuck down next to small explanations as to how the hourglass was made. Larry continued to look through all the pictures and each one saw the hourglass slowly grow from nothing into the horribly familiar shape that it was today.

"By the looks of it, this hourglass of doom was based upon drawings and designs found at an excavation at Alexandria in the late 70s."

"Can you not say it like that?"

"Say what?" Damien shrugged confused.

"The 'hourglass of doom'." He deepened his voice mimicking the way Damien had said it.

"What? It was for dramatic effect." He raised his hands palm splayed in defence.

"Well it was a bit too effective."

He probably shouldn't be too hard on Damien, after all he'd left his post, been 'attacked' by the hourglass and broken into the museum's records to find the records about what the hourglass was.

"So what happens now?"

Larry looked at Damien. The truth was he had no idea what happened now. Sure he'd had a few years experience with the kooky and unusual but that was caused by Ahkmunrah's tablet. The tablet…hmm…

If he brought Jed and the tablet down, and realistically that would be all he'd be able to manage, maybe it would make things easier.

The beginnings of a plan were beginning to form within Larry Daley's head. It wasn't much but once he got back to the museum he'd be able to figure it out with Teddy and Ahk and the others. A few days at the most to figure things out; hopefully that wouldn't leave things too late.

"When are you working over the next week Damien?"

The kid's face soured and Larry knew what he was going to say before his mouth even opened.

"You really are gonna get me fired."

_Next: Back at the Ranch (To Be Confimed)_


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